


Heirlooms

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Advice, Family, Gen, Gifts, Guidance, Heirlooms, Surprises, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Three generations of Contes and Naxens pass along their gifts and advice.





	Heirlooms

Heirlooms

I Battles Never End for Toy Soldiers

“I see you approve of the toy soldiers I gave you, young Gareth.” King Jasson’s icy blue eyes warmed as they rested on the toy soldiers carved from a stone only found in Tusaine marching across the mahogany tabletop in Gareth’s nursery. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gareth bobbed his head, eager to please a monarch famous for being mercurial. He might have continued in a rush, tripping over his words as he always did when he was excited, to describe how he had modeled the deployment of the toy soldiers after a battle he had read about if he hadn’t remembered just in time his father’s strict injunctions that royalty didn’t appreciate babbling boys. Snapping his mouth shut like a fish caught out of water, Gareth prayed the king hadn’t spotted his awkwardness. 

“When I was little, I loved nothing more than to wage war with my toy soldiers.” King Jasson’s bowstring smile made Gareth feel as if he had stepped onto common ground with his godsfather. “The battles would never end for my toy soldiers.” 

Since King Jasson’s smile seemed to invite Gareth to speak, he commented, “I’m acting out a battle fought by the Old Ones when they conquered the Eastern Lands that I read about in a book.” 

Gareth had planned to share how the Old Ones had revolutionized military history by arranging their infantry so one soldier’s shield covered the man beside him—a style still imitated by the fearsome Carthaki legions—but lapsed into sudden silence at the glower on his godsfather’s face. 

“You shouldn’t waste your time reading, lad.” His godsfather’s disappointment echoed his father’s, which always cut like a sword through Gareth’s heart. Gareth had the sense that just as he could never make his father proud, he would never measure up to his godsfather’s exacting expectations. His godsfather and his father would never love him until he was perfect in their eagle eyes. “Books will only weaken you, and the realm doesn’t have a use for weak sons. You must learn to be strong playing with your toy soldiers.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gareth bowed his head in acknowledgement but knew he would read as soon as the king left. Reading was the only way his mind became strong enough to bear the pressure his father and godsfather put on it. 

II Matter of Philosophy

“You’ve been getting into mischief too many times lately.” King Roald’s voice, quiet in the library where Gary had retreated to complete a punishment essay his father had assigned him for slipping a frog onto the Gallan ambassador’s chair at a state dinner, jolted Gary into putting an extra punctuation mark into his paper at a random point. 

Before Gary could stumble out a bow and an apology, King Roald went on, settling with a rustle of robes into the seat beside Gary, “I can’t have my nephew creating trouble for me, can I?” 

“No, Your Majesty.” Gary resigned himself to the prospect of another punishment, this time meted out by his godsfather rather than his father. 

“I realize that you cause trouble when you’re bored.” King Roald’s eyes, blue as the summer sky outside the library’s windows, studied Gary. “We must occupy your mind so you don’t fall into boredom and mischief.” 

“Father has taken it upon himself to prevent me from getting bored, Your Majesty.” Gary’s gaze flicked wryly toward the essay his father had assigned. 

“The essay should keep you busy for awhile.” King Roald’s smile was soft as his tone. “When you’ve finished with the essay, you might challenge yourself with this book.” 

Gary’s face lit like a candle at the mention of a book, but the flame was extinguished as if by a frigid gust when his godsfather pushed it across the table and he noticed that the tome in question focused on philosophy, the only subject he deemed dull to read about. 

“Of all the books in the kingdom, you had to give a philosophy one.” Gary couldn’t conceal his disappointment so he didn’t bother to try. For a moment, he had believed that he was receiving an interesting present, not another punishment. 

“Philosophy is the foundation of thought.” King Roald reached across the table to cup Gary’s chin. “The ideas in this book can be traced back to the Old Ones. Some ideas will come from conflicting schools of thought, and you must weigh the ideas carefully to judge which have the most merit. You must explore all sides of each debate. You’re a smart boy, Gary. You won’t be bored by testing the thoughts of great philosophers, I assure you.” 

“As you say, Your Majesty,” answered Gary dutifully, observing inwardly that if the philosophy bored him he could use the book as a pillow or kindling. 

III An Entrusted Life

“A puppy!” exclaimed Jon, his dark hair stirring in the wind on the ramparts as he cradled the puppy from the Cavall kennels—for generations, the best in the realm—against his chest from which his heart was threatening to burst with delight. “Thank you, Uncle Gareth. How did you know I wanted one?” 

“You might have mentioned it once or twice.” Uncle Gareth’s eyes were not stern but twinkling for once. “A day, that is.” 

“I love her.” Jon stroked his puppy’s snout tenderly, his finger lingering over a white dot shaped like a flower petal. “I shall call her Lily.” 

“A fine name she will wear well.” Uncle Gareth had regained his customary seriousness. “She is your charge, a living behind entrusted to your care. You must assume responsibility for her as you one day will for your people. Treat her firmly but with kindness.” 

“Should I remember to feed and pet her too, Your Grace?” Jon scratched behind Lily’s ear and laughed when her leg kicked as if she were itching her own ear. 

“You’re pert, nephew.” Uncle Gareth’s reproach was undermined by the chuckle in his gaze. 

“I’m grateful.” Jon stopped adoring his puppy long enough to wrap his arms around his godsfather. “I could never be pert when I’m grateful.” 

IV Sharp as a Dagger

“You’ll begin page training tomorrow.” Godsfather Gary leaned back on the bench in the rose garden where he and Roald were sitting. Most of the flowers were fading but their perfume hovered in the air like a ghost. “I thought I would get you a present to commemorate the milestone.” 

He kept Roald in suspense for a moment before withdrawing a sheathed dagger from his belt. Roald gasped when he removed the sheath to reveal the weapon was forged at Raven Armory. 

“It’s beautiful.” Roald’s breath misted the dagger. Beautiful seemed the wrong word to describe a weapon but an admiring Roald couldn’t think of a more apt one. “Thank you very much. I will treasure it always.” 

“It’s sharp as you must be if you wish to survive page training.” Godsfather Gary ruffled Roald’s hair into a black nimbus. “Keep your wits about you always for your wits are your strongest weapon. Fight with your mind first, and if that fails, resort to your fists. Some boys only understand brute force because they are more brawn than brain.” 

“I don’t believe Papa will want me fighting at all.” Roald’s grin was crooked as Godsfather Gary’s advice. 

“Of course he won’t.” Godsfather Gary beamed and tapped Roald’s nose. “As your father, he’s meant to give you good guidance on proper behavior, and I’m supposed to lead you astray into a life of shameless mischief and unrepentant wickedness.” 

“Papa must regret picking you to be my godsfather.” Roald chuckled, grateful for a godsfather who could laugh away his nervousness about beginning a new chapter in the book of his life. “I’m not sorry for his choice, though.” 

V A Necklace of Hope

“This was given to my mother the night before she left for the convent to train as a lady.” King Jonathan pulled an opal affixed to a golden chin out of a velvet box as he and Zenoby curled into a sofa by a roaring fire the night before Zenoby departed for the convent to be trained in a lady’s arts. Zenoby gasped as the stunning necklace slipped between her fingers and her godsfather murmured, “She was a Naxen lady then. Thayet and I believe it is time her necklace was returned to a Naxen lady, Zenoby.” 

“It’s a generous gift.” It emphasized she had the king’s favor and restored a Naxen family heirloom to her. Zenoby kissed her godsfather’s cheek and thought he had always been generous in his gifts to her. Sliding the necklace around her thin throat, she asked, “Will you help me put it on, sire?” 

“I’d be honored.” King Jonathan closed the clasp with a snap. Kissing her forehead in a benediction that could have been a father’s, he said in a voice as gentle as his kiss, “Wear it in beauty, hope, and health, my dear.”


End file.
